"Admiral, about Admiral Wayne-" I said finally.
"We don't tell him. Not unless he's got something tactical on the front burner." I wondered a little at the tone of Tombstone's voice, but simply nodded my agreement. Their friendship ran long and deep, but evidently there was a difference of opinion on this particular mission. I wondered what it was.
Tombstone sighed. "There are officers that you work with every day, ones that you fight with and go on cruise with, and learn to trust in any tactical situation. They get fewer and fewer as you move up in rank, until at my level they're far and few between. There's that kind of people ― and there are friends." His voice had taken on a reflective note, almost wistful in its tone. "Right now, I need the second kind of friend. I'll tell you this, Lab Rat. This is the worst thing I've ever had to do in my life. I'm not even sure I want the answers. What if he was alive? What happened to him here in Russia? Did they break him? Was there a chance for him to return to the United States ― to me and my mother ― that he turned down? I don't know which is worse, contemplating torture or brainwashing."
For the first time in many years, I heard a trace in his voice of the anguish he must be experiencing.
"Tombstone, if there's anything-" He cut off my comment with a hard gesture. All traces of the emotion that had swept over his face earlier were gone. "If there's nothing else, Commander ― I've got a hop to make."
He stood, concluding the conversation.
I held out my hand. "Remember, I'm here if you need me."
Tombstone nodded and took my hand, holding it hard as he shook it.
"I'll remember that. And if I get my ass in trouble, you make sure my old buddy Batman sends in the cavalry, you hear? Don't let him leave me rotting in some Russian hellhole because he's after my stars."
A joke. As feeble as it was, the fact that Tombstone had made one stunned me. "I'll do that, sir."
I walked with him to the massive steel door that makes up the entrance to CVIC, and as he stepped over the sill and knee knocker, I said, "Good hunting, Admiral." He didn't even turn around to look, but made a small wave of acknowledgment as he strode away toward the handler's office.
Now, sitting across the table from Captain Smith, staring into those preternaturally bright gray eyes, I had the feeling that he was seeing the whole scene replaying in my brain.
"Admiral Magruder understands his situation," I said carefully, hoping Carl would not ask me direct questions that I could not answer without either violating the admiral's confidence or lying. "You know how these sea stores are."
Captain Smith nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on mine, probing and brilliant with intelligence. "Intelligence officers hear a lot in their careers," he said quietly. "Sometimes I think we ought to be granted the same privileges and immunities as a clergyman. It might be appropriate, don't you think?"
What could I say? In his delicate, surgical way, Carl was letting me know that he suspected something was up. He was also paying me the ultimate compliment, by not forcing me to divulge what I knew or forcing me into a lie. By not asking any other questions, he was implicitly saying that he trusted my judgment, that he was relying on me to come to him if there was anything that he needed to know about Admiral Magruder and the Russians.
"Admirals aren't required to tell us everything, Commander. Sometimes they even lie."
"I wouldn't put it that way, sir."
"I would. And I'm not talking just about Admiral Magruder. We all have our admirals, the one's we'll go to the wall for. Tombstone just happens to be yours. You follow what I'm saying?"
I thought I did. It was advice ― and a warning. Captain Smith and Batman, me and Tombstone. As long as I didn't intrude on the former relationship ― and didn't pry ― Captain Smith wouldn't press me on what I knew about Tombstone. In that moment, I felt more afraid of my senior intelligence officer than either of the admirals.
"It sounds like an interesting idea, but it couldn't be an absolute privilege," I said warily. "After all, our first duty is to the Navy."
He nodded, evidently satisfied with my answer. "Speaking of the Navy ― I think you and I need to go fill in Admiral Wayne on this submarine.
As we've agreed, there's damn little we can do about it, not without violating most of the restrictions we're operating under. Still, we'd better let him know ahead of time, get him prepped up for the fight in case it comes to that."
I followed Captain Smith across the passageway to the chief of staff's office. Captain Smith knocked lightly on the door, then stuck his head inside. "Admiral in?"
The chief of staff grunted, and motioned toward the admiral's cabin.
"He's trying to crank out some paperwork ― he'd probably welcome the distraction."
We crossed the rest of the admiral's mess, the large combination sitting area and dining room that serves the twenty or so officers attached to Admiral Wayne's war-fighting staff. Captain Smith rapped lightly on the door, then pushed it open as the brass placard on the door instructed.
Good morning, sir. Got a moment for some intel?"
"Come on in, Captain," Batman's voice boomed. "God, I'd give anything for a reason to quit reading this crap. Anything interesting?"
Captain Smith waved me on in behind him. Batman's beady brown eyes lit up when he saw me. "Well, to what do we owe this honor? Come on, Lab Rat, pull up a chair. Don't see too much of you these days. How've you been doing?"
In marked contrast to Tombstone, Admiral Batman Wayne was a gregarious, jovial fellow. A hair shorter than Tombstone, with a figure that ran to roundness and a booming voice and quick wit, he was a people person in a way that Admiral Magruder would never be. That joviality did little to mask his sharp sense of tactics and operations, however, both on a tactical and political level. Batman had spent several tours in Washington, D.C. Back there, he'd learned to kill with position papers and formal briefings instead of Sidewinders and AMRAAMs, making him as deadly an adversary in budget fights as he was in the air. He was a good man to work for, and I'd jumped at the opportunity to stay assigned to Jefferson while he was in command.
"Commander Busby has been filling me in on some anomalous detections,"
Captain Smith began, then summarized in a few sentences our tactical position, our lack of assets, and the detections we'd had over the last twenty-four hours. "Bottom line is, there are submarines around, although I can't give you a classification without assigning some more surveillance assets to it. But I wanted you to be current on the situation, in case you have to take this battle to a higher level."
Batman looked thoughtful. "Anything threatening in what you've observed?" he asked quietly.
I shook my head. "It's a communications burst, not a video downlink transmission." Translation not targeting data, but maybe position reports.
Most Russian submarines are capable of entering into a data link with orbiting Russian aircraft or satellites, instantaneously transmitting and receiving targeting and weaponeering information. Had there been a Russian Bear in the vicinity armed with antiship missiles transmitting data to a submarine, it would have been an entirely different scenario.
"It's a satellite transmission, I'm pretty sure," I said. "Not from a Bear."
Batman nodded gravely. "So, maybe they read the weekly familygram, baseball scores, that sort of thing?" he mused. "Our submarines get 'em ― why not theirs?" We both knew the answer to that one. The Russians were not nearly as concerned about the health and well-being of their submarine crews as the Americans were. Hell, even the lead shielding around their reactors was inadequate to prevent widespread sterility among Russian submarine sailors.
"But you know, I'm thinking that these subs ― if they are subs, mind you ― pose a serious hazard to navigation." I could tell by his self-satisfied expression that he'd had this very possibility in mind when he'd wrung that concession out of his seniors. "Let's put some S-3s in the air, make sure there are no uncharted wrecks up ahead of us. Or astern of us, for that matter. And I'll move a couple more S-3s up to an alert-thirty status. Maybe some helos, too." He glanced up at us to see if we had any suggestions.